To Fly, Fair Iowa
by Elsyra
Summary: Arthur's takes a road trip to visit his Uni friends out of state for his 21st birthday. After a long trip filled with plenty of shenanigans, he would love to relax with a nice—and legal—drink. However, it seems that other strange "perks" that some with turning 21 are showing up to bite him. Just where the hell is Merlin when you need him? Modern AU. Set in U.S. Eventual Merthur.


A/N: _This fic is a very,_ very, VERY _late birthday present for Aurora Borealia. Happy belated birthday to an incredibly creative, intelligent, and beautiful soul! So happy to have you as one of the best friends in the entire world!_

 _L_ _ast time I wrote you a funny birthday fic, there were magical mishaps, bursts of song, too much estrogen, and copius amounts of Drarry feels._ _This time, you'll be reading/laughing through a Merlin AU about the craziness that comes with being 21 in the U.S.,_ _inspired by a funny conversation we had back around my birthday. And, as always, I have shamelessly plugged in some of your favourite things, as well as a dash of Merthur banter._

 _Funny enough, this one's got a little more of a serious vibe due to the plot. But just remember, no matter how old you get, you never have to take life_ too _seriously. After all, life is a personal story, full of adventure, love, and laughter. If ever you find yourself on the downside of that proverbial roller coaster, your besties will always be here to help pick you up. So keep moving forward, and fill your story with adventures that you'll be proud to reread one day._

 _(Note to other readers: Yes, Elsie is a ridiculous sap. Now, on to other important info...)_

 _Modern AU. Reincarnation. Main characters are college-aged. Ygraine lives!_

 _Trigger Warnings: References to verbal abuse and cheating. Will specify before each chapter._

 _Disclaimer: If I owned BBC's Merlin, Season 5 would be wiped off the face of the earth. But I don't. :')_

 _Enjoy! More chapters to come as I finish editing them._

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"No."

"C'mon."

"No way in hell."

"Please please _pleeeeease,_ Arthur?" Mordred looked up at him in a wide-eyed pout, which probably resembled a lost puppy to most people. The effect was lost on Arthur, who always found his little cousin's intense eyes unsettling.

Arthur snorted. " _That's_ supposed to show me how mature you are?" Mordred sobered up, eyes narrowing. Totally not helping the creepy factor. "Besides, I'm pretty sure today's _my_ birthday."

"Duh." Mordred's pursed lips suddenly morphed into a grin. "It's your present! I'll save you the trouble of driving five loooong hours to see your Iowa buddies."

"Right," Arthur huffed, "and I suppose that you get something else out of this. Other than looking cool in my Mercedes." Trust Mordred to take someone else's milestone birthday to his own advantage. The kid seriously needed to stop hanging around Morgana so much.

"Naturally. I'll be a whole 5 hours closer to my license!"

Arthur sighed and shifted his feet. True, Mordred was an exceptionally responsible teen driver. Eight months since his permit test and not one scratch on any of his mother's posh cars—not even a speeding ticket. Not that she would care. Vivian was always had something "more important" on her plate and left it to her adult nieces and nephews to host Mordred. God, how was she even related to Arthur's mother?

Then again, Morgana practically jumped at the chance when she was home, so it wasn't really an inconvenience. Thick as thieves, those two. Much as Arthur hated to admit, it wasn't _totally_ miserable having the kid around.

"C'mon, I'll even buy you coffee at the Dunkin Donuts before we go."

Arthur made a face like a distressed cat. "Ugh, that's barmy. Make it a cuppa from somewhere half decent and you've got a deal. But only on the way there—!" He barely got the words out before Mordred went jumping up and down, crowing joyfully as he swung the glistening car keys around in triumph.

Eventually, they shoved their luggage in the boot and got ready to take off. It was a long drive to Des Moines, but they'd make stops to pick up Gwen, Lance, and Morgana. Arthur did _not_ envy Mordred the stiff muscles. As they approached the car, Arthur had to force himself to go round to the passenger's seat. He eyed the kid warily as he set the seat about a foot forward. "You'd better not kill us. Else my ghost will haunt you."

Mordred winked and entered their first destination into the GPS before weaving out of the apartment complex parking lot like a pro. Arthur eyed the beautiful cityscape around them for his favourite tea shop and muttered for Mordred to get a meter spot. When they got out, Mordred smirked at him playfully

"Shuddup."

"You're such a British—what do you call Merlin? A wanker!"

"Shut _up!_ "

Mordred cackled. "You've been here for _how_ many years? And you're still a tea-drinking 'prat…'"

He went on good-naturedly and Arthur half-ignored, half-enjoyed the teasing. It reminded him of home, which he still missed. It was kind of pathetic, after all this time. His family had moved to Chicago when he was ten, all for Uther's international company transfer. Of course, it meant a ton of money and a fancy penthouse suite, along with all the perks that came with living in the city. Sometimes, he found it exhausting, and his semesters at Northwestern had almost become a sort of break from the madness. Almost.

Arthur was no stranger to city life. They had lived in London proper since his birth. His most wistful thoughts of home lingered on those summer trips to the Cotswalds and Norfolk. He'd met Merlin on the beach. The idiot dumped sand in Arthur's clothes and tried to bury him. Called him a prat. They'd been fast friends ever since. He wanted to visit another beach with Merlin one day. Maybe Florida.

It was the oddest feeling he got whenever Merlin sent him a letter. Sure, they texted and chatted as frequently as they could, given their hectic uni student lives. There was something about Merlin, the walking anachronism who insisted on sending him snail mail because "waiting builds character—or something like that." their back-and-forth communication. Arthur never quite knew what to make of him.

He cracked a private smile, leaning into his teacup so it wouldn't be so obvious. Then again, given Mordred's tendency to be unnaturally observant—whether or not he _appeared_ to be totally absorbed in a newspaper article—it was probably done in vain.

"Look at this."

Arthur promptly found an ad shoved into his direct line of sight. "Windy City Flyers, huh? You know, I'm pretty sure Leon teaches at one of those places now. Haven't heard from him since high school."

"Yeah. He's probs logging hours to get his private pilot license."

Brows raised, Arthur grinned. "Someone's done their homework. You considering physics for aviation as your major? Wouldn't that put Vivian in a right fit!" After a moment's realization, Arthur's amusement waned. The fact that Mordred's mother probably care about the job's lack of refinement or glamour more than its potential dangers disturbed him immensely. God forbid her flesh and blood be seen as some servant driving the private jet instead of acting the part of entitled passenger.

Mordred became very quiet, completely absorbed in his paper for the rest of their stay. While his attention was otherwise occupied, Arthur paid the bill. Returning to the table with a sigh, he wrapped his little cousin in a warm half-body hug, rubbing his shoulder. It startled the kid out of his thoughts.

"You shouldn't have done that," he muttered. "'s your birthday."

"Yeah. That's why you're my personal chauffer." At least that earned a little smile as they walked out. It was probably best for Mordred to drive, that way he had to focus completely on the road and not his troubles. And if Arthur could use his 21st birthday as means to cheer up Mordred, then raging dragons couldn't stop him.

And if Mordred never let him hear the end of it for pulling out the Hello Kitty neck pillow—a gag gift from Gwaine, he swore—Well… it was for a good cause.

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 _A/N: Read and review!_


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